I’m a Doorman at an Assassin’s Hotel

Morning sunlight seeped through the heavy curtains, casting the room in a soft golden glow. I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. As I dragged my tired body toward the bathroom, the door suddenly rattled under the force of loud, impatient knocks—so violent it seemed like the door might come off its hinges.

"Lorne! Get up, we've got a situation!"

The voice was unmistakable—Chev Chelios. His tone was brimming with excitement, as if "emergency situations" were nothing more than his morning coffee.

I groaned inwardly, my scalp prickling with dread as I cracked the door open. There he was, standing in his signature leather jacket, cigarette dangling unlit from his lips, grinning at me like a troublemaker who'd just found his next big prank.

"Chev, do you have any idea what time it is?" I sighed, exasperation lacing my voice.

"Who cares about the time? Get moving!" Without waiting for a response, Chev grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me out of the room.

Before I could get my bearings, he was leading me down the hall at a breakneck pace. His steps were quick and purposeful, like a predator closing in on its prey, while I stumbled along, struggling to keep up.

"What's going on?" I asked, gasping for air.

"You won't believe it." Chev glanced back with a mischievous smirk. "Some psycho checked into the hotel. He's raising hell and demanding to see you."

"Me?" I blinked in disbelief. "Why would anyone want to see me?"

Chev laughed, clearly amused by my reaction. "Listen, kid. Shadow Hotel rules are simple: every guest comes with their own story. And today's guest—well, he says his story is tied to yours."

My mind went blank. Tied to me? I hadn't even been at the hotel long enough to make enemies—or so I thought.

When we reached the lobby, I finally saw the "psycho" Chev had mentioned.

A tall, imposing man stood in the center of the room. He wore a black leather trench coat, his disheveled hair framing a pair of sharp, predatory eyes. His expression was a mixture of calm madness and cold resolve. In his hand was a gleaming silver rifle, resting casually at his side but radiating a dangerous aura.

"Who the hell is that?" I whispered to Chev.

"He calls himself Victor," Chev replied in a low voice, his tone tinged with excitement. "But you might know him better by his nickname—'Soul Reaper.'"

My stomach churned. That name alone sounded like trouble.

Before I could process what that meant, Victor turned his head and locked eyes with me. His lips curved into a chilling smile as he spoke in a voice as rough as gravel. "You're Lorne, aren't you?"

A shiver ran down my spine. I instinctively took a step back. "Uh… yeah, that's me. Can I help you?"

Victor chuckled darkly, his smile devoid of warmth. "We have unfinished business to settle."

"Unfinished business?" I stammered, my mind racing but drawing a blank. I had no memory of ever meeting him.

Chev clapped me on the shoulder, his grin infuriatingly smug. "Looks like you've stepped into some serious shit, kid."

Victor took a step closer, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "You and the Shadow Hotel are more connected than you realize. I'm here to sever those ties."

"Ties? What ties?" I asked, my unease growing with every word. "What do you want?"

Victor didn't answer. Instead, he raised his rifle, the barrel now pointed directly at me.

The tension in the lobby skyrocketed. The hotel staff froze in place, and the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. My heart pounded against my ribcage as sweat slicked my palms.

"Hey, take it easy, buddy!" Chev interjected, stepping forward with a grin that could only belong to someone utterly fearless—or insane. "This is a civilized establishment. No need to redecorate with bullets, right?"

Victor glanced at him briefly, his tone icy. "This isn't your concern, Chev Chelios."

Chev shrugged, unfazed. "Then I'll just sit back and watch you handle the kid. He could use a lesson or two."

"What?!" I turned to glare at Chev, barely able to contain my frustration. "I thought you said you had my back!"

"I do!" Chev replied, laughing. "But that doesn't mean I'm catching bullets for you. Figure it out, kid."

Victor's finger tightened on the trigger. His gaze bore into me, and I knew there was no avoiding this confrontation.

"Lorne," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Prove that you deserve to be here, or I'll clean up the mess myself."

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting around the room for anything that could give me an edge. Victor's stance was unshakable, his rifle steady. There was no doubt he could hit me before I even had a chance to react.

"Wait!" I raised my hands, desperate to stall. "Victor, there's been some kind of misunderstanding. Can't we just talk this out?"

Victor's smile returned, as cold and lifeless as ever. "There's no room for words here. Only action. If you're standing here, you should already understand that."

My heart pounded like a war drum. My mind screamed at me to think, to move, to do something.

"Hold on!" Chev called out, his tone casual as he leaned against a nearby pillar, his unlit cigarette still dangling from his lips. "Victor, buddy, let's not be hasty. He's my rookie, after all. At least let him show what he's made of."

Victor's gaze flicked to Chev. "You want to fight in his place?"

"Nah." Chev twirled a stun gun in his hand, exuding his trademark cocky bravado. "But the rules say we settle disputes with a fight first, right? Let the kid prove himself."

Victor paused, his cold eyes narrowing as he considered Chev's words. Then, to my shock, he nodded. "Fine. We'll see who's worthy through battle."

"Wait, wait, wait!" I protested, panic rising in my voice. "Why do I have to fight—"

Chev clapped me on the back, cutting me off with a grin. "Relax, rookie. Just make sure you don't die too pathetically."

Victor stepped back, giving himself more space. He leveled his rifle at me with the precision of a predator ready to strike.

The lobby fell silent. Everyone—staff and guests alike—watched with bated breath, as if this was just another day at the Shadow Hotel.

"Begin," Victor said coldly.

My breath hitched. My mind screamed, This is it. I'm dead.

But before Victor could pull the trigger, Chev moved like lightning. His stun gun fired, the shot striking Victor's rifle with a metallic clang. The rifle jerked upward, and the bullet flew past my head, missing me by inches.

"Consider that your warm-up!" Chev laughed, diving behind cover. "Move, rookie, unless you want to be Swiss cheese!"

My body reacted before my brain could catch up. I dove for a nearby pillar, landing with a graceless thud and clutching my pistol with shaking hands.

"Welcome to survival training, rookie!" Chev yelled, his voice brimming with amusement.

I gritted my teeth and pulled out my Glock, my sweaty palms barely able to keep it steady. Bullets whizzed past me, embedding themselves into the wall with sharp cracks.

"Victor's not holding back!" Chev shouted, tossing a flashbang toward him.

The flashbang detonated, filling the room with blinding light.

"Rookie, shoot!" Chev's command cut through the chaos.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I aimed for Victor's leg and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The bullet grazed his knee, causing him to stagger slightly. He turned his icy glare on me, his expression unreadable.

"Not bad," Chev called, his laugh echoing in the smoky air. "But this show's just getting started!"

The battle raged on, every moment a chaotic blur of gunfire, quick thinking, and sheer survival instinct. By the time Victor retreated, I was left shaken, my body trembling from adrenaline.

Chev, however, seemed as chipper as ever.

"Not bad, rookie," he said, patting me on the back. "You're still alive, so I'd call that a win."

"Is he coming back?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Definitely," Chev replied with a grin. "But hey, that just means you've got more chances to prove yourself."

As I slumped into a chair, exhausted but alive, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much larger storm.